


body language

by labeledbones



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 08:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11847801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labeledbones/pseuds/labeledbones
Summary: Philip’s freckles are muted in the shadowy blue-purple-pink light of December dusk, but there are three freckles right below his left eye asking Lukas to touch them, knowing he won’t, Lukas' fingertips twitching, his heart saying the things he’s been asking it not to say for years.Just some Philip/Lukas angst in the barn. Set sometime pre-series.





	body language

Philip’s freckles are muted in the shadowy blue-purple-pink light of December dusk, but there are three freckles right below his left eye asking Lukas to touch them, knowing he won’t, Lukas' fingertips twitching, his heart saying the things he’s been asking it not to say for years. 

“You okay?” Philip asks, and then looks back down at his camera, the pictures he’d taken of Lukas on his bike that afternoon. “These are pretty good, but I can do better.” 

Philip’s lips are chapped, pink, from hours in the cold air, tongue darting out to wet them, breath coming out in clouds that Lukas watches until they vanish, his own mouth aching to taste, to chase after that breath and take it into his own lungs. 

“Fine,” he says, wrapping his arms around himself. “It’s fucking freezing though.” 

Philip’s shoulders lean back against the wall of the barn, his body angling out toward Lukas, the toes of his shoes just barely touching the toes of Lukas’ shoes, the length of his legs, his narrow hips, his hips, his- 

“And the pictures are sick, man.” He takes a step backwards. “They’ll be great for my Facebook page.” 

Philip’s body lifts slightly from the wall when Lukas steps back, like it wants to follow Lukas, and then it settles back against the wall, an inward sigh, Philip’s chest sinking a little, the push and pull of magnets, of wanting and not wanting to want. 

“The light’s a little off,” Philip says. “We can try again maybe. Tomorrow or something?” 

Philip’s eyes move from the camera back up to Lukas, looking at him through his eyelashes, sliding from Lukas’ eyes to his mouth to his eyes again, then blinking and falling back down to the camera, lashes fanning out, torturous against his winter-flushed cheeks, asking for nothing, hoping for something. 

“I can’t tomorrow,” Lukas says.

Philip’s mouth turns down at the corners, just for a second, before twisting to the side and settling back into a steady line, unaffected, though the right corner still droops a little, the mouth of a boy used to being disappointed, the mouth of a boy. 

“Sorry,” Lukas says. “My dad’s making me do bullshit manual labor all day. Sunday?” 

Philip’s hair falls across his forehead when he laughs, a small laugh, a laugh of relief, of camaraderie, a laugh that leaves a piece of hair curtained against his eye, his head shaking it back into place before Lukas’ fingers have the chance to win their war and push it back themselves, settling instead on reaching up to push back his own hair, imagining how it might feel, how Philip might feel. 

“Sunday works,” Philip says. “I should get going. It’s getting late.” 

Philip’s hands slide his camera back into his back, lifting the strap onto his shoulder, thumb hooked under as he waits for Lukas to say something, or do something, fingers gripping the strap, his anxious nails bitten and ragged, the elegant bones of his wrist, his knuckles, falling from the strap back to his side, defeated, giving up, surrendering.

“Yeah, I should go too,” Lukas says. “My dad’s probably waiting.” 

Philip’s head nods as he steps out of the barn into the growing darkness, looking back over his shoulder at Lukas before he is completely swallowed up into winter, the line of his jaw firm, strong, as he throws a small smile at Lukas, turning again, the back of his head growing smaller and smaller, growing indistinguishable from the darkening trees and the darkening sky, until he is gone from Lukas, leaving him alone, his arms still wrapped around himself, trying to keep himself warm.


End file.
